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The Next Global Conflict
Day 1 Date: Day 1, 2016 Location: 30 miles south of Pittsburgh﻿ The Harrier hovered over the forests of southern Pennsylvania. It was camoflauged, covered in dark black, to hide in the dark sky. This was a stealth mission, so no mistakes were allowed. "Delta 6, you are clear to move north over," said Major Johnson, the co-pilot of the Harrier. "Roger that," replied Delta 6, aka Cpt. Smith, the leader of the mission. "Squad, move forward," he told his small squad. The squad walked carefully through the forest, carefully checking for any enemies. "Harrier, do you see anything?" "Up ahead is the crash site. I don't see any Russians there yet, but there going to show up soon. Better hurry though." "Alright, squad on me!" The squad moved on a slight jog to the crash site. General Marshall told them that the plane possibly carried WMDs, and was heading to the warzone at Pittsburgh. Smith's job was to recover it. The squad reached the plane. It had crashed over a river. Parts of it were burning, but the entry way looked pretty fine to Smith. The squad entered, Smith in the leader. "Squad, check those corners and move carefully." Smith wanted no mistakes, especially with a fire hazard. Smith turned on his flashlight. The indside was messy, with crates and barrels knocked over, documents scattered, weapons flung here and there. They came to the cargo hold. "Jackpot," Smith exclaimed. There were three rockets, lined up side by side. They seemed to let off and omninous sense to Smith. "Gomez, take some photos of the missiles. Hunter, record any information you can find on the rockets." Gomez and Hunter scurried to their positions. "Delta 6, I'm picking up sings of en-" Johson began to speak, but his sentence ended in static. "Harrier, what's wrong?" Smith radioed Johnson. "My screen's jammed. Can't see anything. We're blind. Before the jam, we picked up-.oh, FUCK!" Smith didn't need to ask what. Two rockets headed in the Harrier's direction. Flares were deployed, but only caugfht one. The other exploded on the Harrier's underside. A bright explosion filled the sky, and bits of the Harrier fell into the forest below. "Poor Johnson," Smith though. All of a sudden, bullets came in the direction of the plane. "Squad, contact!" Smith yellled. The two sides began to fire at each other. It became obvious that despite the superior markmanship of Smith's squad, the Russians were going to overpower them. "Hold em off, I'm gonna defuse these bombs," Smith commanded. Smith ran over to the rockets and began to defuse them. He defused to and then looked over to his squad. All of them were dead, and Russians were entering the plane. Smith had no other choice. He set a timer on the last rocket, and opened a trapdoor that led to the river. He jumped in and locked it just as the Russians entered the cargo hold. He put his hands to his ears. A spectacular explosion rocked the entire plane. Bits flew in all directions, and all the ammunition exploded as well, created another explosion. The Russians surrounding the plane were all dead. Smith, only by a small a chance, was alive. He began to swim around sunken parts of the plane. After swimming away from the wreckage, well the wreckage of the wreckage, he spoke into his radio. "Marshall this is Delta 6. Mission somewhat successful.Gonna need a ride outta here though." Day 2 Pittsburgh Private Armstrong raised his ﻿ACR at the incoming Russian soldiers. They were in what was left of a building, taking cover behind a barricade in the ruins. The Russians had reserted to running at the Americans, always meeting a grim faith. Until now. Smith scanned the area and found something weird. "Sarge, what is that?" Smith asked. Sergeant Lee looked over, then yelled, "Shit, JUGGERNAUT!" Smith ducked as M240 bullets ripped onto a nearby rock. He switched his ACR to an RPG. He risked poking his head out, and then aimed the RPG at the juggernauts head. He said a short prayer, then fired. The RPG struck the head and surrounded the juggernaut. When the smoke cleared, he saw the juggeraut on its stomach. He smiled. Then the juggernaut got up and continued to run. Oh no, Armstrong thought at he reloard the RPG. Nononononononono. He turned, but discovered the juggernaut was right above him. Using his insticts, he swung the RPG at the enemy's head. The juggernaut flinched for a second, which allowed Armstrong to shoot the RPG. The explosion mutilated the juggernaut's head, but it also flung Armstrong into a wall. "Armstrong, are you okay?" Lee asked. Armstrong's face was covered in blood and dirt. "Yeh," Armstrong sighed and got up. But then he saw about 100 juggernauts running toward the building. Lee turned too, then picked up a radio off of dead body. "Command, we are about to be overun - Brokean Arrow." Armstrong knew what broken arrow. He quickly ran and hid bend a large metal piece that once belong to an elevator. He saw a B-2 launched a wave of bombs over the remnants, and then felt his body shake violently. A bomb landed nearby, and Armstrong blacked out. He woke several hours later, and found himself being dragged by two Russian soldiers toward a large, muscular Russian general. "Kradjevski, we found the American you reqeusted," one of the two soldiers told the general. "Ah yes," Kradjevski said. He then opened up a manila folder. "Jack Armstrong. You might be a private, but we know of your involvement in the CIA. Your going to be my prized guest in Harrisburg," Armstrong gulped. How could he have known about him and the CIA? And Harrisburg was soley occupied by the Russians, and turned into one of the most brutal gulags the Russians had. "Take him to the jeep," Kradjedski said. The two soldiers soluted and dragged him Armstrong away. The "Octagon"